RoboPeriod Adventures
by Camfield
Summary: Tfanonkink prompt - First period.  Goes from CRACK to SEX and BACK!  :D    Sticky, various pairings.  Grimlock, Hound/Mirage, Ravage/Ratbat, OP/various, Blaster/Bluestreak
1. Grimlock

Universe: G1  
>Characters: Wheeljack, Grimlock<br>Rating: T for CRACK  
>Disclaimer: I don't own it… *le sigh*<p>

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><p>Wheeljack hadn't even thought about it, but he supposed that it made sense.<p>

His babies were growing up so fast… being created on a foreign planet with limited material and in adult frames had sped up their development in more than one way.

Which was why he currently had a lab full of raging mechanical theropod.

"Me Grimlock want know why me Grimlock leaking!"

And why there were a half a dozen mecha pounding on his door.

"Come on Grimmy, I'll show you a reeeeal good time!"

"Don't listen to that idiot, let ME help you out with your… problem."

Wheeljack palmed his forehead as Grimlock stomped over to the door and flung it open, mecha falling in a pile in front of him before immediately jumping up to paw at his pelvic plate.

"ME GRIMLOCK SAY STOP SNIFFING ME GRIMLOCK!"

Really, just another day on the Ark.


	2. HoundMirage

Universe: G1  
>Characters: HoundMirage  
>Rating: M<br>Disclaimer: I don't own it… *le sigh*

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><p>Mirage had never been so grateful for his invisibility mod in his life.<p>

Between the battles and oftentimes long missions he hadn't been in a permanent, close knit group of mecha since his full adult upgrade. He was usually in and out before half of the contingent knew, but crash landing on Earth had done more than just strand him with a long term 'family'.

And damn if it didn't make it harder to hide when people KNEW you were there.

Of course, it was also hard to hide when you had fluids dripping out of you at a rate that would make a medic flail in panic.

At least, it would be panic until they realized it was only his long time overdue interface protocols kicking in. Most mecha experienced their first cycle in the company of a mentor who taught them the pleasures of interfacing, Mirage was alone with a group of mecha that mistook his refusals in a different light.

But back to the current situation.

Mirage was currently sliding carefully into the rec room, sensors on edge as he worked to get himself a direly needed ration without anyone noticing him. The mecha in close proximity tensed whenever they turned toward him, but with nothing to see they went on their way with their nasal sensors twitching.

He'd managed to get a cube and subspace it before he felt someone tracking his movements. His optics flew over the contingent only to land on one of the only three mecha who would be able to 'see' past his mod.

Hound.

The tracker's nasal sensor was flared and twitching as he breathed deeply, his focus never wavering even as his respirations picked up.

Mirage nearly forgot he was still invisible and jolted backward at the intense stare. He turned and fled, nearly knocking into a group that was just entering the rec room.

This was torture, it had to be. Mirage fled through the base to his room only to belatedly realize that he'd long since given his friend the code to unlock it. He moved to leave, to go _somewhere_ until he could figure out what to do when the door whooshed open to reveal the scout.

He froze, then slowly moved backward into a corner, something that he would have normally never allowed to happen. Hound followed with deliberate steps, head swinging, mouth open and nasal sensor flared as he drank in the scent Mirage had tried so hard to cover up.

"Hound?"

Mirage had never heard his vocalizer so pitifully weak before.

"Oh Mirage… is this why you refused everyone? Your protocols weren't online?"

Hound's voice was deep and rich and triggered the flow of his newly activated conductive gel to start up in earnest. He could feel it soak through the rag that he'd stuffed under his panel and drip in a steady rhythm on the floor.

"I don't… I mean…"

Mirage was seriously flustered. He didn't normally stutter, or run away, but this whole… debacle, had him off balance and more unsure than he'd been in vorns.

"You smell delicious, I wonder if you taste just as good?"

A wordless cry escaped Mirage as his legs gave out and he sank to the floor, arms wrapped around his chest.

"Stop! Leave me alone!"

Hound knelt and smoothed his hand over a white arm. His touch gentle and soothing even as it prickled Mirage's sensor net.

"Please Mirage, let me be your first. At the very least you won't have to hide anymore…"

The thought was tempting. Mirage knew that the excess flow of fluid would stop after his first interface and he was quickly running out of clean rags, not to mention he wanted nothing more than to curl up in the rec room with a cube of energon and watch the hysterics of his comrades without the embarrassment.

But the thought of Hound's face being anywhere near his leaking array was almost as embarrassing.

The gentle hand on his arm decided him. He could do much worse than Hound for a first time, at least he knew his friend would make sure not to hurt him.

His face was a mask of apprehension even as he nodded jerkily, but Hound rewarded him with a smile that could have melted the polar ice caps.

"Just relax, 'Raj. All you need to do is enjoy this."

Mirage smiled a bit at the nickname and stood, clutching at Hound's hand as he made his way to the berth and sat down. His valve was still leaking, but it seemed less important than the soft glow of Hound's optics and the soft touch on his plating.

A barely there kiss had him tingling, and he couldn't help his hands from grasping sturdy green shoulders.

He was petted, gentled and stroked until he felt like the best kind of organic goo. His panel long since opened and rag tossed into the refuse basket in the corner.

Electricity sparked over his body, charging the conductive gel that still dripped, and Hound traced a finger around the rim. His face was resting against the smooth metal of Mirage's inner thigh and he was inhaling deeply, optics flickering in pleasure with each vent.

"You smell so wonderful Mirage."

Mirage squirmed, embarrassment coming back.

"It isn't that big a deal… just conductive gel Hound."

An extra heavy vent sent tingles through his array and his body tightened in response.

"No, first time gel is special. Filled with extras that make it nearly irresistible and wonderfully sensitive."

With that he pressed forward and kissed the warm metal. The brush of lips moving slowly upward toward the quivering goal awash in fluid.

Mirage's hands clenched and unclenched in the foam of the berth as Hound made his way over his plating. A gasp broke free with the first ghost of pressure over his array before a slick glossa pressed gently inward. Flicking over the inner rim with lazy movements Hound collected as much gel as he could, tasting and venting through the rhythmic clenching of Mirage's thighs against his helm.

Mirage let himself go, vocalizer spitting moans and static, and reveled in the sensations Hound was creating. It was an exquisite feeling to give up control and let someone take care of him, Ops just didn't work that way. The feelings Hound was creating made him shiver with delight and servo curling pleasure.

He pleaded, somewhere, for a kiss and Hound obliged him, tasting his own gel was embarrassing and erotic at the same time and Mirage was done overthinking. He pushed back, trying to copy what Hound did to him with enthusiasm if not skill, and lifted his hips in unconscious tempo to the thrust of Hound's glossa.

There was pleading, begging, though he couldn't for the life of him remember what for, and suddenly fingers were gently pressing inside him. Stretching and stroking with electricity arching between them as they were coated in gel and wandering further and further inside until Mirage was sure they'd get lost.

A keen was the only thing he could manage when they pulled out, but a soothing noise from Hound and the tip of a spike nudging his rim centered him right back into the sensation before he felt the slight tang of pain that accompanied the first stretch.

It hurt, a little, but not enough for Mirage to complain. He wiggled, shifting the spike from side to side as he tried to find a place that eased the discomfort, and Hound gritted his denta even as his hands clasped more firmly to blue hips.

"Primus Mirage!"

Mirage could say nothing, his own gasps and keens so far from coherent thought it didn't occur to him to even try. He was singularly focused on the thick slide and sensation of Hound's spike fully seating itself in his valve.

It was glorious.

His head lolled backward even as he shifted his hips to grind their flush components together, moving on pure instinct, and reacting as coherently as possible to the noises Hound was making.

A shift, an adjustment, and then Hound was pulling out and thrusting back in. His hips rolling in a slow dance that was simple and beautiful and everything Mirage had ever dreamed it would be. His sensors were on fire, electric charge arching everywhere the gel touched, and it was all he could do to hold on. All he could do to clasp his hands to Hound's helm and pull him in for inexperienced and sloppy kisses while the scout pushed him higher and higher until he burst with a keen. His body tightening to the point of pain as his first overload crashed through his systems, barely aware of Hound's own release, before falling offline.

When he booted back up, Hound was laying on his side next to Mirage with a silly grin on his face.

"I hope you enjoyed that Mirage. I tried to make it good for you."

Mirage rolled himself over, cringing slightly at the soreness and light pain that was centered in his array, and gave a silly little grin back.

"It was acceptable. I may need you to show me again, sometime. Just to make sure I'm fully educated in the art you know."

Hound snickered at the haughty tone before tucking Mirage against his chest plates.

"Sure sure. Glad I could help out a friend, especially one who smells as delicious as you do."

Mirage felt his plating heat up with embarrassment once more.

"Pervert."

Hound's laughter echoed through his room.


	3. Soundwave, RavageRatbat, Cassettes

Universe: G1  
>Characters: RavageRatbat, Cassettes, Soundwave  
>Rating: M<br>Disclaimer: I don't own it… *le sigh*

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><p>Every time one of Soundwave's cassettes transitioned from pre-adult to adult Soundwave promised himself it would be the last time. For whatever reason, because he had never seen other host's cassettes immediately post upgrade, his creations went absolutely crazy. Every single one of them had gone nuts.<p>

Batzoid, crazy, insane, cukoo, loony and any other words that meant out of their fragging minds.

And now it was little Ratbat's turn. He'd been upgraded recently and Soundwave was on edge for the whole mess to begin. His telepathy didn't help, because his creations didn't know when it would start, and really the only thing keeping him from just locking them all in his room was that he wasn't quite ready to deal with unhappy neighbors from the noise.

Again, he promised himself that this was absolutely the last time he was going to create. Ever.

When the shrill shriek was finally heard, he nearly pitched forward from horror/relief. Pulling himself upright he not-ran through the halls of the Nemesis to his room and steeled himself before palming open the door.

Ah yes. Definitely started.

Soundwave resisted the urge to drag his hands down his helm and smash it repeatedly against the nearest wall. Why his creations couldn't just be like other Cybertronians for their first cycle baffled him like few things could.

Ravage was folded up in her corner, licking herself frantically, armor plates askew and bleating whenever her own tail crossed her vision.

Rumble and Frenzy were humping everything in sight. Furniture, toys, each other… he saw splashes of silver transfluid everywhere.

Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw had already clearly fought for dominance, because they were both scratched and dented, and Lazerbeak had mounted Buzzsaw and was rutting like there was no tomorrow.

And then Ratbat, the last of his creations and happy instigator of the whole scene, who was flopped in the middle of the floor staring at her leaking valve like it was the most fascinating thing in the whole world.

As Soundwave watched she cocked her head from side to side, puzzling the gel and the feeling of it leaking out of a previously uncared about opening, before turning to her brothers and sisters and watching them go about their own idiocy.

There really weren't any other cons who would be able to spike Ratbat besides his own siblings anyway. Soundwave's cassettes were 'smaller than the average bear' as Frenzy had laughingly put it, and they weren't much interested in baring themselves in bad company anyway.

So when Ravage leapt to her feet and pounced on Ratbat, shoving her muzzle directly into the dripping valve, he wasn't surprised when her 'yummy noises' started.

He was surprised, however, to find out that Ratbat could hold a high C7 (2093.005 hz) for as long as she did, especially once the glass in the room started breaking.


	4. PrimeArceeBulkheadBee, RatchetBeeRC

Universe: G1  
>Characters: OptimusBumblebee, Optimus/Bulkhead, Optimus/Arcee, Ratchet/Bumblebee, Ratchet/Arcee

Rating: M  
>Disclaimer: I don't own it… *le sigh*<p>

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><p>I can't find a SINGLE damn reference to their ages other than, 'many years ago' or 'some stellar cycles ago' so I'm totes gonna AU it here. :D<p>

Optimus at times regretted the fact that his crew was both small and relatively young. Ratchet was the oldest of them and constantly grumbled on his 'near catatonic' state of mind compared to 'you slagging younglings'.

What he wasn't sure Ratchet knew was exactly how young they were.

He'd seen it coming, the Matrix provided him with certain gifts, but had been hard pressed to do anything that wouldn't only serve to embarrass his soldiers even more then was already going to happen. There were only 5 of them stationed on Earth, and unless a 'Con stopped by to offer their services there were only so many combinations available to them.

Serving together had synchronized them and from the looks he was getting he wasn't sure if he was their next meal or their potential interface partner.

Really, the looks didn't differ all that much.

Luckily, or unluckily perhaps, the children had been present when their cycles started and Optimus had tried to quickly and quietly get Ratchet to take them home before the three even realized what was happening.

Miko, of course, refused to do anything quietly and little without her 'Bulk'.

It was fortuitous, then, when Arcee simply dropped the game controller and zoned in on Optimus that Ratchet standing right there and was able to scoop up the kids and hightail it out of there, confused voices turning to shouts of disbelief as they saw their friends fighting each other over a flattened Optimus just before they moved out of sight.

"Get off Bulkhead! I get him first!"

"Not a chance in Pit pixie! More mass means I go first!"

Bumblebee's chirring and clicks stopped them both in their tracks before they turned on him with a resounding, "NO!" His doorwings drooping for a moment before he shouldered his way through them and popped Optimus spike panel, sent an electric charge jolting through the array, which had the added effect of making Optimus cry out, and dropped himself onto the large rod with a self satisfied beep of his horn.

Arcee and Bulkhead looked murderous even as they acknowledged his claim and stepped back, optics following each movement of their fellow soldier as he lifted himself up and dropped back down in quick succession. 'Bee's whirring and clicking breaking up with static as he chased his first overload with more attention than he'd ever given to 'cons.

At least, not that he remembered right now.

His doorwings were trembling and thighs tensing up when blue flashed across his vision. Arcee had sat down on Optimus chest and was rocking and gasping from whatever he was doing to her.

Arousal rocketing higher, he grabbed Arcee's waist and wiggled, his hips rolling in a circle as he fought to glean every joule of pleasure from his Prime's spike before he had to give it up. His head thunked onto Arcee's back and he ground down one last time as his world exploded in stars and glitter and one loud BEEP.

He didn't have time to recover before Bulkhead was pulling Bumblebee off and shoving him aside ruthlessly, lining up the still stiff spike and impaling himself before coming back off to bounce in an uneven and… well Optimus wasn't even sure it was a pattern at the moment.

With his glossa delving into the slick folds placed ever so delightfully within his reach, however, he didn't much care what Bulkhead thought he was doing down south. Arcee reacted wonderfully, trapping Optimus' helm with her knees so that he only place he could go is further into her heat, and ground down gently on his face, smearing it with conductive gel that sparked them both repeatedly.

It wouldn't be enough to stay the cycle, Optimus knew, but with Bulkhead doing… whatever it was he was doing down there, it would be enough to distract her until it was her turn for a ride.

Uhm… Interface. He'd been among the humans too long.

Bumblebee had apparently grown frustrated with Bulkhead and was chewing him out in a rather vicious display of contempt. Optimus was actually growing concerned that intervention would be needed when Ratchet slammed back through the doors only to gape at his commander.

Flat on the floor with Arcee nearly sitting on his face, Bulkhead doing a horrible impression of a rodeo bull rider, and Bumblebee looking like he was ready to _fight_ Bulkhead over it.

"What in the PIT?"

Unfortunately, or fortunately again, when Bumblebee saw Ratchet he completely forgot Bulkhead and nearly flew over to the medic, pawing at his spike panel with a singular intensity.

Ratchet's shock made him easy enough to knock over, but Bumblebee found that where his leader had been waiting for them to jump him, their medic was staring at him in shock.

With a garbled whirr-BEEP that sounded suspiciously like a curse Bumblebee pressed his thumbs into the sides of the panel, popping it out in a move that Ratchet had used on other mechs many times before. Slender digits were immediately applied to the reticent spike and much too slowly for Bumblebee, it began to pressurize. He knelt to nuzzle the pliant metal, hands working it over until Ratchet FINALLY began reacting to the stimulation and focus on _him_ instead of the spectacle Bulkhead was making of himself.

Even though it wasn't fully pressurized, Bumblebee didn't wait. He clambered to sit in Ratchet's lap and worked his way wiggling and rocking until it was finally inside his valve. A 'reaow' of pleasure and 'Bee was off to the races, paying no mind to the rest of Ratchet as long as he kept that wonderful pressure from going away…

Bulkhead must have either gotten tired or fed up with his poor 'handling' of the current situation, because he reached up and pulled Arcee off of their leader's face before pulling Optimus and rolling them over so he was beneath the Semi.

Immediately he sighed in relief as the angle afforded him instant pleasure. Optimus just chuckled and began thrusting in earnest, his patience with the admittedly inexperienced green Wrecker somewhat exhausted, chasing his own overload as well as Bulkhead's.

Bumblebee saw the frustrated Arcee flat out fire her exhaust at Bulkhead with a loud 'POP', not that it made a difference, and beeped to get her attention. When she turned, he slid off of Ratchet's spike, conductive gel dripping, and gestured her over.

The look on her face was favor material, he knew, but it slid into a blissful expression the second she dropped into Ratchet's lap and onto his spike.

Ratchet's sirens blared in surprise and he refused to think about what was happening. He just followed Optimus' lead and grabbed Arcee's waist, Bumblebee inserting himself between the both of them and headbutting them in his version of a kiss.

Later, when Optimus and Ratchet were sitting and talking next to three satisfied and offline soldiers they commented on how nice the weather was, and whether or not they had the strength to get up and get that extra joint lubricant can from storage.


	5. BlasterBluestreak, Cassettes

Universe: G1  
>Characters: BlasterBluestreak  
>Rating: M<br>Disclaimer: I don't own it… *le sigh*

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><p>Blaster was hunting.<p>

His cassettes were spread out across the Ark, waiting for Bluestreak to appear, while he'd spruced up their shared room but with each passing orn he was growing more and more impatient with not finding the sniper.

He wasn't on a mission, which meant he was holed up _somewhere_ on the Ark. Blaster was getting desperate, he NEEDED to find him.

So he hunted.

It probably looked strange to the mecha who saw him. Steeljaw was nose to the ground with Blaster literally right on his tail, his head swung left and right, tilting back and forth, and his glossa was peeking out through parted lips. He was sure his optics were hazed over, because his vision certainly was, but none of that mattered.

Because he had to find Bluestreak and that wonderful, ever so lovely, smell that kept wafting past his nasal sensors whenever the sniper was near. It was driving him crazy!

When one of the twins finally sighted him, Blaster honestly couldn't tell which in his hurry to get to the Praxian, he was off like a shot. Pushing friends out of the way, even a startled Jazz, as he flew through the corridors before coming to a stop before a nervous Bluestreak.

The first thing he noticed was that they weren't alone. The frontliner twins had HIS claim backed to the wall and babbling incoherently.

The second thing he noticed was the open and dripping interface panel where black fingers were currently working their way further and further into that precious heat.

Blaster didn't know he'd growled until the twins turned around with snarls of their own on their faces. Bluestreak sank to the floor, clearly having had been held up by one of them, and covered his flushed face with shaking hands.

"Mine."

Blaster's glossa was out and he was panting, each vent drawing in more and more of the scent coming from Bluestreak's drenched array, even as his hands clenched into fists, ready to fight for his mate.

The twins gave him a flat look, Sideswipe cocking a predatory smirk after a second, before they launched themselves in tandem toward the cassette player.

Normally Blaster wasn't even a blip on the twin's threat radar, but in his musk-haze he fought like a mech possessed. The cassettes flew out from nowhere and everywhere to impede the frontliners in any way possible. Blocking their optics, throwing whatever was available, winding under their feet, it was an anything and everything goes brawl and Blaster was in the thick of it.

With each panting vent Blaster twisted and punched, kicked and grappled. What started as the word 'Mine' quickly devolved into snarls and bitten metal when one twin was unfortunate enough to get within helmspace.

Bluestreak was watching with a horrified look as his friends literally fought over dominating rights, something that hadn't happened since Cybertron, but his normally streaming vocalizer was silent. Mouth opening and closing without a peep leaving.

Blaster finally managed to knock Sunstreaker out of the fight with a well placed elbow to the nasal sensor. He hit with enough force to completely dent the metal in, throwing Sunstreaker offline and Sideswipe to the floor with the backlash.

"Mine!"

It was a claiming bark and Sideswipe growled before bowing his head and accepting the outcome. Spitting curses at the communications officer, he hauled his brother up and out of the way of Blaster's feverous attentions.

"B-B-Blaster?"

Blaster's head snapped back to Bluestreak and his whole demeanor instantly changed. Without the hunt or competition he transformed from dominant warrior to eager turbopuppy. Nearly wiggling over to where Bluestreak stood, his cassettes followed, he rubbed his forehead affectionately against the other's before scooping him up and dashing to his room.

He was so excited he nearly missed his door, hands trembling as he keyed in the code, and rushed over to the berth to lay Bluestreak down. The clank told him that it was a little less lay and a little more drop, but he instantly petted hands over the sniper's frame in apology.

"Mine."

This was the most affectionate version of the word he could use. It was liberally dosed with adoration and tenderness and Bluestreak hesitantly nuzzled his helm against a hand. This was much nicer then up against a wall where everyone could see.

The cassettes were everywhere Blaster wasn't, tiny glossa and hands/paws/hooves nudging and rubbing and covering him with pets and caresses and attention and Bluestreak found that he didn't mind being claimed if this was the result.

So he let himself be lain down and gave himself up to the sensations, his hands reciprocating as best they could over the multiple frames that covered his own.

Blaster sat back for a second, admiring his claim running hands over his family, and cooed. He was still wiggling and wagging like an Earth dog as he nudged Bluestreak's knees apart and huffed, drawing in as much scent as he could and holding it in his system until they blared and he had to x-vent and start over. Shivers ran through Blue's frame at the heated air rushing over his drenched valve and focused attention. Blaster held off until he was shaking with restraint before he dove forward to press his face into the sopping array, licking and snuffing, hands coming around to grasp black hips and press them tighter to his own face. To get as far as he could into that slick heat and reach every sensor node possible with his glossa before he had to stop.

Bluestreak keened, chassis vibrating as Blaster pumped bass through his speakers, and shrieked, body not letting him overload until it had been properly spiked but almost painful arousal charging through him and zapping both him and Blaster from where they were connected between his legs.

His hands fought free of the cassettes and pulled on Blaster's audio horns, trying to get the tape deck to move and let Bluestreak overload, and oh he wanted to overload. So badly that his whole body shook with excess electricity even as it arched to the rest of the mech pile he was the bottom of.

Blaster resisted, at first. His face was buried in that wonderfully scented valve, conductive gel smeared and dripping from his face as he pressed just that little bit further into bliss. The hands on his audio horns became more insistent and he reluctantly left his new second home to smear the gel over whatever his hands and helm could reach. The smell wafted from the heated metal and he panted into a kiss before pressurizing his cord and pressing it forward.

Bluestreak had been so wired that when the spike finally slid home he bowed off the berth in immediate overload, scattering the cassettes that had been on his body. They threw themselves at each other then, Eject clambering on top of Blue's face while Rewind took Ramhorn and Steeljaw took Rewind.

The Praxian blindly thrust his own glossa forward, earning a shriek from Eject, as Blaster planted his hands on the flattened doorwings of his partner and gave into sensation. Thrusting hard and quick and Blue couldn't help but feel his charge sparking between them again.

Eject pressed down against his mouth and keened his own overload before hauling himself off and over to his brothers, the small mecha spent, and Blaster surged down for another kiss.

Bluestreak pulled him closer, legs winding around Blaster's hips, and rolled up to meet the fierce thrusts. They met with loud clangs and even louder noises until overload claimed them both.

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><p>When Bluestreak onlined, it was to see Blaster gazing at him with the most adoring look he'd ever seen on a mecha's face.<p>

"Mine?"

It was asked softly, a hand stroking his helm, and Bluestreak for once had to fight to get words to come out of his vocalizer.

"Yours."

It was all he could say, but from the look on Blaster's and the cassette's faces…

It was enough.


End file.
